


Give In To Love

by LibbyLune



Category: One Piece
Genre: Adventure, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, First Time, Getting Together, Hot Springs & Onsen, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Zoro being Zoro, brief Sanji/OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyLune/pseuds/LibbyLune
Summary: Zoro knows better than to think about it too much, but between the rowdy festivals and ancient unexplained temples on this island, it's hard to forget about wanting Sanji.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 58
Kudos: 677





	Give In To Love

It’s a summer island, and according to the witch, they’ve arrived right at the peak of its climate zone. According to the locals, they’ve arrived right in time for _ the festival_, so according to Luffy, they’re just in time for MEAT. He’s gone in a flash, and Nami starts yelling at them to go after him, but sighs and waves it off instead. It’s hot enough to sap even her captain-wrangling energy, the air humid and full of heady smells. Besides, they can hear this festival from the docks, the buzz of excited conversation and swells of indistinct music just out of sight.

The dockmaster is friendly, dropping obvious hints that pirates are just as welcome as any other visitors, and there’s no sign of a Marine base. Zoro weighs the probability of free booze against the value of getting a nap in while their captain is gone, but it’s the heat that decides him. Chopper has been hiding below deck ever since they sailed into the island’s climate zone, and the little doctor has the right idea. This time of day, any nap Zoro might take will be too sweltering to be worth it.

Even the idiot cook seems to be feeling it, ambling back out onto the deck in one of those stupid flowered shirts he wears when the weather is truly unbearable. One of the ones with short sleeves and eye-catching colors, the collar undone a few extra buttons down his chest. Not that Zoro cares what the idiot wears; that’s not why he jumps off the ship and wanders away while the cook fawns over Nami and Robin in their summer-wear. He just doesn’t need to wait around.

“Planning to swim back to the last island, marimo? Party’s this way.” 

Zoro scowls, surprised to find the far edge of the dock under his feet, and looks behind him. Sure enough, there’s Sanji, glaring at him as the girls vanish into the crowd at the other end of the pier. There’s nothing to say, so Zoro just stomps back toward him, making sure to shoulder-check the cook as he passes. Sanji goes up in flames, Usopp starts panicking, Franky gets one of his giant hands between them.

“Save that energy, bros, this festival sounds SUPER!”

They leave Brook on watch with Chopper, who’s in no shape to keep an eye on anything, and the rest of them more or less split up as soon as they hit the town. Usopp gets excited over some bug as it flies into a stand of some kind of plant that the sharpshooter is equally interested in, for whatever reason - Zoro doesn’t ask about the plants, as a general rule. The cook twirls away with hearts in his eyes and Zoro doesn’t watch him go, and soon enough Franky’s gotten lost too. Not that it matters; the festival is crowded and chaotic, but the town doesn’t look too big and Zoro still can’t feel any danger. Luffy’s laugh rings out over the square somewhere further in, but Zoro has spotted an open-air tavern, so that’s where he heads.

He finds an open spot just as someone yells “a round on me!” and that’s only the start. Zoro doesn’t know what the festival is about - maybe just a general celebration of the season - but the people are euphoric with excitement, and generous with food and drink. Even the ones Zoro can tell are hardened pirates or bounty hunters like himself are caught up in the mood. He’s used to turning down flirtatious companions when he goes drinking alone, but this crowd is more brazen than Zoro has seen, and there’s a lot of casual contact going around.

Afternoon begins to wane but the air doesn’t cool, and if anything the atmosphere in the square ramps up in intensity. Tired of brushing off wandering hands, Zoro gets up to find something to eat. Maybe he’ll get a glimpse of Luffy while he’s at it. It’s impossible to predict what he’ll do if left alone too long, and Zoro’s beginning to get the itch in the back of his skull that says their captain is up to something.

Of course, the first crewmember he spots as he shoves through the crowd is the cook, lingering near a food vendor with that stupid lovey-dovey smile on his face. Sure enough, it’s directed at a woman, a mercenary or merchant’s guard by the look of her - not ragged enough to be a pirate, too civilized to be a bounty hunter, but that posture says she knows how to use the sword at her belt. She’s wearing it over a summer sarong like the ones Robin favors, but it’s clearly not decorative. No threat to the cook, but she’s not the type of delicate flower the idiot goes on about.

More surprising is that she’s smiling too, returning Sanji’s attention, her eyes following his hands and lips as he smokes, blowing hearts into the steamy air. Her gaze passes across Zoro’s as she shifts to speak with another woman, and Zoro realizes they’re part of a group, three women and a few men with the cook in the center. A couple of them look like guards as well, the others merchants, and Zoro shrugs it off. Even if the strangers mean the cook harm, they’re too weak to do anything. Judging by the way the rest of the crowd is acting, they’re probably genuinely friendly. Maybe the ero-cook will actually get lucky for once.

That looks increasingly likely when the first woman reclaims Sanji’s attention, offering him a bite of the fried treat she’s gotten from the vendor. Instead of handing it to the idiot when he finishes noodling over her generosity, she feeds it to him directly. Some kind of sticky sauce smears over the cook’s lower lip and he flushes as red as Zoro has ever seen him, momentarily still with surprise. Zoro scowls and turns away as Sanji springs back into action, fawning over the women with redoubled effort.

It’s not Zoro’s problem if the idiot wants to give himself heat stroke, carrying on that way. He just hopes the cook won’t waste too much of everyone’s time gushing over his new angels come morning.

Zoro wanders, picking up a few snacks, fending off a few hands. The square is full of fountains that apparently move, because he’s sure he passed this particular prancing horse… mermaid...thing, but that’s not important. He hears Luffy again, but no one is screaming so Zoro isn’t worried when he can’t find his captain. A “Yow, SUPER!” rises above the crowd, accompanied by a mechanical sound and a swell of cheering. Zoro veers in that direction, or tries to, but there’s no sign of Franky and he finds himself at the edge of the square, in a quiet corner between some trees in raised beds.

Robin, uncanny woman, joins him there. She looks as fresh and collected as ever in one of her usual sarongs, her only concession to the festival atmosphere a crown of flowers over her hair. 

“Swordsman-san,” she greets him. “Do you find the festival to your liking?”

Zoro scowls at her - this woman always has another angle - but she’s carrying an unopened bottle of what Zoro recognizes as one of the best liquors he’s had on this island, so he’ll wait to see what it is.

“It’s not bad.”

“Fascinating, really,” Robin agrees, handing him the bottle. She settles onto the edge of the low planted bed, gesturing him down. “According to the locals I’ve spoken to, the real festival begins at sunset. This is all just... warming up, if you will.”

Zoro sits, and grunts to let her know he’s listening. Robin will get to the point eventually, but if he finishes this bottle before then she’s out of luck.

“It’s a fertility festival, of course,” she continues, unfazed. “Unusual timing. One generally celebrates fertility at the spring point of an island’s climate zone, but this island has incorporated the heat of summer as a key element, and they celebrate the full flush of maturity alongside fresh growth.”

She pauses, so Zoro glances at her, all sharp eyes over that serene smile. He still doesn’t know what this has to do with him, unless Robin is just explaining it all to make him wonder.

“I’m told it becomes quite carnal once the torches are lit,” she adds, waving at an unlit torch near their quiet corner. “Most of the children and elderly islanders have already begun to head home for the evening. Our sharpshooter recalled something that needed his urgent attention on the ship when he realized, and I believe Navigator-san has almost finished her rounds of the gambling tables in the area. She mentioned recording her observations of the harbor while the memory is still clear, and giving Skeleton-san a chance to see the festival.”

“Good to know,” Zoro says. The witch is smart to get out while the getting’s good.

“Indeed. I suggested that she might check on our captain as she leaves; last I saw, he was well on his way to eating himself unconscious.”

Zoro can only assume that Chopper is still on the ship, so that’s all their more innocent nakama accounted for. Franky, Brook, the idiot-cook, Robin herself - they can all make their own choices about this kind of thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zoro tells her. The booze will be flowing even more freely as this night goes on, and Zoro does not count himself as innocent. He doesn’t much care for the kind of carnal activity Robin is hinting at, but he knows how to navigate around it. It’s not enough to make him miss this kind of party. Finishing the bottle Robin brought, he stands up to leave.

“Let Cook-san know, won’t you?” she says, and Zoro twitches. There’s the hook. “It would be terrible if anyone took advantage of his… generous nature.”

“That idiot was having a great time, last I saw,” he says. “He can handle himself.”

She just watches him go with a knowing smile, and Zoro feels the itch of unease at the back of his mind shift from the usual Luffy-centered readiness to something darker.

Zoro knows that Sanji is mostly talk. When it comes down to it, the cook spends a lot of time chasing after women for almost no results. The idiot can gush for days over a smile or a fleeting touch, but he’s always back on the ship doing breakfast prep in the dark hours of the morning. It’s a bare handful of occasions Zoro can confidently say the cook actually left with one of his goddesses, and the idiot was very quiet afterwards. Not that Zoro is counting, or pays special attention to the cook’s moods after nights like that. It’s just Zoro’s job as Luffy’s first mate to look after the crew, and Sanji will never admit to places he’s fragile or inexperienced. 

Zoro has certainly never seen him partake in this kind of festival, and Zoro is confident that if he hasn’t seen it, it hasn’t happened. Where else would their cook have stumbled into a fertility festival that turned into an open-air orgy when the sun went down? Not back on the Baratie, that’s for sure, not with Red-Shoes Zeff standing over his little eggplant’s shoulder. Not while they were separated - Sanji hates talking about it, but from what little he’s choked out about those two years it was a perfectly tailored hell.

As a rule Zoro does not think about Sanji and sex, but he’s loosened up enough from the alcohol that he can admit that the not-thinking is hard. Enough to admit that Robin is right, and somebody should be keeping an eye on the cook, before he gets in over his head. Equal to Zoro in age, in confidence and fighting strength, but maybe the cook is more innocent in the face of something like this. He’s certainly more susceptible to it, with his stupid desperate need for attention, whereas Zoro is not particularly interested in getting anything but more booze tonight.

Of course, Zoro will get a shoe to the face if Sanji ever so much as suspects a hint of that thought. That kind of inexperience isn’t a weakness, but the cook will see it as one if Zoro assigns it to him. Whatever action Zoro takes tonight will be thankless, and Robin’s knowing smirks will only make it worse.

Robed figures are circling the square, lighting the torches. The new heat compensates for the waning sunlight, leaving the air just as sweltering as ever. In the pool of light beneath one of them Zoro spots Brook, showing off his 45° angle for a laughing crowd. The flickering firelight makes the skeleton’s shadow extra bizarre, and Zoro turns away, not in the mood to hear about panties.

Smoke from the torches adds a haze to the air and a heavy weight to the already overwhelming scents of the square - some kind of incense, and Zoro spares a moment to feel sorry for Chopper, who can surely smell this all the way back on the Sunny. The lighthearted festival atmosphere is deteriorating fast, fermenting into a brew more suited for private rooms.

Everywhere he looks there are people making out, catcalling strangers, losing what little clothes anyone had bothered to wear in the heat. Zoro ignores a few sword innuendos and brushes past groping hands. There’s no way he will be able to find the ero-cook in all this; what he needs first is another drink. Goal set, Zoro pushes through the crowd. He’ll be able to tell Robin he tried with a straight face.

Regardless, Zoro is terrible with directions and excellent at arriving where he needs to be, so instead of finding the tavern from earlier he stumbles around the edge of a fountain, and there’s the cook.

He’s still with the people from before, a half-dozen of them sitting in front of the fountain. The woman who hand-fed the cook earlier is perched on the edge of it with the lovestruck idiot pulled up close next to her, the rest of them scattered around drinking and laughing. It’s a sheltered spot, a little out of the crowd, and Zoro takes a step back before any of them spot him.

Snagging a mug of something from a man with a tray and flipping the guy a coin, Zoro scowls. He doesn’t have a plan, not even a vague intention. Interrupting the cook now - holding hands with that woman, hanging off of whatever she’s saying with hearts in his eyes - will only start a fight, and Zoro doesn’t actually want to ruin the cook’s night, no matter how they argue usually. He doesn’t want to lurk here and watch, either; that’s creepy, and the sight of the cook’s stupid lovesick face is already turning his stomach.

Robin couldn’t fault him for leaving now. The cook is fine, just drinking and flirting, and even if they all know Sanji can’t hold his drink any more than he can disregard a woman’s request, what of it? There’s nothing she could do to him that the idiot wouldn’t beg for.

Zoro would leave now if it was only one woman, even a woman with sharp experienced eyes and a possessive hand on the cook’s thigh. But her friends look up at the two of them too often for anything but anticipation, the men and women both, and Zoro can guess their intentions. Carnal, Robin had said, and plenty of the action Zoro passed on the way here involved multiple parties. Even if Robin would accept an excuse, Zoro can’t convince himself.

The woman kisses Sanji, grabs his hair to tilt his head, coaxes his mouth open. Zoro can see the details far too clearly but he’s too far away to hear what the woman whispers as she pulls back for a moment; whatever it is widens the cook’s one visible eye and draws a vivid blush to his face. He melts, unresisting as she directs one of his hands to her chest and the other between her thighs.

Why would the idiot resist in the first place? Sanji never gets this lucky and Zoro should leave now, while he can still say seeing anything in the first place was an accident. The love-cook would kill him for being here. But that woman’s friends aren’t even pretending not to watch, and their eyes on the cook are just as predatory.

One of them - a spritely girl, slim enough that Zoro or the cook could throw her off as easily as breathing, but of course the cook never would - slides up against Sanji’s other side. She wraps her arms around his waist and tucks her chin over his shoulder, whispering into his ear. The cook shudders and the first woman pulls back, stroking his face.

Zoro shudders himself at the idiot’s expression, dazed and open-mouthed, and forcibly ignores a rush of heat. Whatever this is, it’s a terrible idea. He’s going to make sure Robin knows it, next time he sees her.

Next thing Zoro knows, Sanji is sliding off the lip of the fountain, dropping eagerly to his knees between the first woman’s thighs. The spritely girl leans forward and yanks his head back for a kiss while the woman opens her sarong, and then the girl is shoving Sanji’s head in there instead.

Zoro catches a glimpse of the idiot’s face as he’s moved and can’t decipher the man’s expression. Lust, of course, but shock as well, and Zoro wonders how much Sanji has drunk, how far the cook would be willing to go in other circumstances. How much of the flush is alcohol, and how much of the shock is unease, rather than surprise at his luck? The idiot would never say no to a woman, but if his mouth was free would he actually be saying yes?

The girl slips down beside him, getting her hands between Sanji’s legs, and the woman with his head between hers has one hand in his hair and the other gripping one of the cook’s wrists. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his other hand, bracing it on the side of the fountain.

One of the men with them adjusts his pants, and Zoro knows that’s a line the love-cook would never cross. He’s never seen their cook look twice at a man, and Zoro would have noticed. He’s hoped for it enough, but the interest just isn’t there. If one of these strange mercenary guards tries to get his dick in Sanji, Zoro will take it off. 

The woman moans loudly enough for Zoro to hear even over the rush of water in the fountain, and the two of them let Sanji up for air. He’s breathing hard, stunned and flushed and mussed enough that his other eye is nearly visible, mouth shiny and wet. Zoro is going to need some time alone later, and already feels guilty about it. He may not care much about sex in general, but this is an exception - Sanji is an exception. 

The spritely girl gets back up on the rim of the fountain, coaxing the cook’s head around. He bites his lip and nods at something she says, leaning in with his tongue out. Next to them, the first woman slouches back, clearly satisfied. She strokes the cook’s hair and beckons to the rest of her friends. The man who was the most interested at the start of this clusterfuck gets up, adjusting the obvious bulge in his pants again.

He puts a hand on the back of Sanji’s neck and the cook startles, jerking away. The girl who’d been getting his mouth leans in to say something, the woman who started this puts a soothing hand on his cheek, and the cook looks like he’ll cave, uncertainty clouding his expression. Blackleg Sanji will never say no to a woman, whether the consequence is death or a dick in his face, but Zoro has seen enough.

“There you are, love-cook,” he snaps, coming around the curve of the fountain like he hasn’t been lurking out of sight the whole time. The lie stings already, but it’s necessary. “I’ve been all over this shit town looking for you, come on.”

Sanji gasps, looking up at Zoro with three other people’s hands on his skin, and the relief that flickers through that blue eye makes Zoro’s blood boil. It’s replaced right away by a badly faked sneer, but the strangers aren’t so quick to recover. They freeze as Zoro strides over, pulling the cook up and away in one continued motion, ignoring the idiot’s protests.

“What are you doing, marimo, moss-brained swordsman, hey, shithead, where are you-”

If all the love-cook can come up with are his most recycled insults, he must really be shaken by the whole situation. Zoro hears someone shout behind them and walks faster, all too conscious of the tremor in Sanji’s legs. Whether it’s from drink, shock, or orgasm Zoro doesn’t know, and he’s not looking too closely at Sanji’s open fly to narrow the options. Regardless, it gives Zoro the edge he needs to get the cook moving instead of getting a kick to the face.

By some miracle of the gods Zoro doesn’t believe in, the first tavern they pass is advertising rooms for rent. Zoro manages to slam money down on the counter and drag the cook upstairs before he’s entirely gotten his wits together, and it’s a good thing all those drinks earlier were free, or the allowance Nami handed out would never have stretched to cover this.

“Clean yourself up and get some sleep, ero-cook,” Zoro snaps over Sanji’s incoherent protests, throwing the idiot onto the bed. “I need another drink.”

He’s got enough money left for a few, and the look on his face keeps casual company away from the corner table he stakes out. Unfortunately, that woman walks in with her cheeks still flushed with satisfaction, and smirks as she notices him sitting alone.

“Hey there tiger,” she says, “Care to explain what that was about? We were just having some fun. That’s what this festival is for.”

“No,” Zoro growls, and she’s not put off by his expression, which would raise her in his esteem under other circumstances. As it is, he’s about ready to draw his swords.

“Your friend is good with his tongue,” she continues, as if her life isn’t in danger. “I’m sure you’re well aware, though. What’s the problem, is he not allowed to mess around with other men? I know you were watching him with me.”

Zoro is so, so glad Sanji didn’t follow him back downstairs. Off-kilter or no, it’s Zoro’s head that would roll at the suggestion that he can tell the cook not to do anything.

“It’s not like that,” he snaps, furious that he’s sitting here talking about this. “He doesn’t mess around with men at all.”

That puts a knowing expression on her face, and Zoro will never back down from a fight, but this is something else entirely. He throws back the rest of his drink, slams the tankard on the table, and storms back to his room. She laughs, and it’s only respect for Nami’s wrath should they have to leave in a hurry that keeps his swords sheathed. This festival is wild and unrestrained, but not in the sense that a murder would go overlooked.

The hallways have reconfigured themselves, so it takes Zoro a few tries to find the room. There’s a lamp burning when he gets the door open but Sanji is already asleep, and yet again Zoro realizes that he hasn’t thought this through. There’s only one bed and the cook’s clothes are folded on the chair next to it, comforter bunched at the foot of the bed and only the thin sheet pulled up to his shoulders. The room is small and sweltering, completely filled by the meagre furniture.

Zoro is exhausted by this point but vibrating with frustration too, all kinds of unspent energy and no outlets. He could shove the cook over and make him share the bed, try to get some sleep, but Sanji will definitely wake up and make a fuss. Besides which, sleeping next to the idiot who is the source of so much of the energy keeping him restless will be impossible. There’s not even room to sleep on the floor.

That’s it. Zoro takes one more look at Sanji, peacefully asleep. If the cook knows what’s good for him, he’ll come straight back to the Sunny when he wakes up. If not, it’s out of Zoro’s hands.

He’ll go back to the ship, maybe drink some more and work off some tension on the way, and then train until he’s relaxed enough to get some real rest.

It’s closer to dawn than midnight when Zoro gets back, and Robin is out on deck. Ship watch, probably, but Zoro is pretty sure it was supposed to be Usopp’s turn tonight.

“Did you enjoy the festival, Swordsman-san? I’m surprised to see you back so soon.”

Only Robin can put so much judgement into such an innocent statement. Zoro knows she can read the signs of what he did on the way back - so what if he made out with a few people in a vain attempt to work through the arousal he was feeling? It only made him feel dirty and guilty, and he knows Robin can see the tension still wracking his body.

“I’m surprised to see you. Sounded like you meant to enjoy the festival yourself.”

“Oh, I’ve had my fill,” she says with an inscrutable smile. “It is just as well you came back tonight; Navigator-san and I collected some interesting legends that she means to explore tomorrow morning. Will Cook-san come back in time, do you think?”

“He was asleep when I left him,” Zoro grumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed under her serene gaze. Whatever Robin knows or suspects is undoubtedly too close to the truth for Zoro’s comfort. “Knowing that idiot he’ll be back in plenty of time to make breakfast.”

“Our cook is quite dedicated,” Robin murmurs. “Perhaps you should get some sleep as well, Swordsman-san. I expect tomorrow will be an exciting day.”

Zoro narrows his eye at her suspiciously, but doesn’t ask, climbing up to the crow’s nest instead. Anything Robin deems exciting is probably better left to the imagination, and Zoro intends to work out until he doesn’t even have the energy to imagine it at all.

He gets in a couple hours of training and a decent nap before the usual racket starts up down on the deck. Luffy, yelling for food, but his whining isn’t followed by the typical thwack of polished shoes kicking a rubber body into the railing, so the cook must not have made it back yet. Zoro cracks open his eye; it’s still early, but much later than the curly-brow usually starts cooking.

Down on deck, Brook and Franky are discussing the festival while Nami shrieks at them. Usopp, hiding behind the mast, looks sickly fascinated, but Luffy is too busy rolling around on the lawn clutching his stomach to listen. He probably wouldn’t get it anyway, and Zoro sincerely hopes Chopper doesn’t, although the little reindeer looks concerned anyway.

“Oho, but Nami-san, to see so many lovely ladies’ panties was an unparalleled joy for these old eyes - but I don’t have any! Ohoho, sk-”

“Skull joke,” Zoro mutters under his breath, as Nami cuts Brook off with a determined hit.

“Yow! Come on sis, it was SUPER! This one chick, she-”

“Keep it to yourselves, you two!” Nami yells. Zoro has to agree.

“Physical!” Chopper cries. “You need to see a doctor! Who knows what you might have picked up! Wait, I’m the doctor!” 

“You don’t have to worry about me, reindeer-bro! I’m too SUPER to get sick from something so uncool!”

“I thank you for your concern Chopper-san, but I am only my bones, ohoho! I cannot get sick!”

It’s just Sanji’s luck that he jumps onto the ship in the middle of this. He’s wearing the clothes from the day before, of course, and looks far from his usual immaculate self.

“Walk of shame!” Usopp calls. A glare from the cook sends him scuttling back behind the mast, but everyone’s attention is already drawn.

“Yow! Swirly-bro got SUPER lucky, right? I saw you with those mercenary chicks, too bad we couldn’t-”

“Shut UP!” Nami insists.

“Nami-swan is so beautiful when she takes control!”

“Ohoho, did these lovely ladies show you their panties, Cook-san? The joys of youth cannot be experienced as mere bones, alas-”

“You too!”

“SANJI! MEAT!”

“Physical!”

“Perhaps we should let Cook-san freshen up,” Robin suggests, intercepting Luffy’s lunge with a burst of petals. Her hands deflect him to the deck, pouting, but Chopper still jumps up to cling tearfully to Sanji’s shirt.

“I don’t deserve Robin-chwan’s concern!”

“Humans transmit all kinds of diseases by-”

“That’s enough, Chopper,” Nami says firmly. “We’re leaving soon, Sanji-kun, but we’ll need to feed this idiot first,” she adds, jerking a thumb at Luffy.

“Meeeaaatttttt....”

“Anything for Nami-swan!” Sanji carols, vanishing belowdecks only to reappear in fresh clothes in record time, hair still damp as he gets to work in his kitchen. Chopper follows him, still pleading for blood draws and tests.

“What about the shit-swordsman, huh? Did he let you check him over?”

“Zoro!” Chopper wails.

Zoro pokes his head into the galley, rather than making the doctor run around looking for him. “All I did was drink,” he says. Sanji throws a glare over his shoulder at him.

“Really?” Chopper perks up. “You shouldn’t drink so much, Zoro! You’ll get dehydrated-”

“I make sure even plant-crewmates get watered.”

“- and what if someone slipped something in your drink? That can happen at parties like this, and you wouldn’t even know! Are you sure nothing happened? You look flushed, and is that a new bruise on your neck? If you don’t remember-!”

Zoro remembers, an unsatisfying kiss with someone whose hair was too long and unmanageable but almost the color of the idiot cook’s, which turned out to be a terrible combination. “This is nothing,” he growls. “I was with Robin and curly-brow most of the night, anyway.”

“What were you doing with Robin-chwan, you-”

“With Sanji? But Sanji, you just said you were with-”

“I didn’t say that! You can’t believe everything Franky says, Chopper!”

“-I know you and Zoro don’t have anything, Sanji, so if it was just the two of you that’s fine, but-”

“Nothing like that happened!” Zoro snaps, and just as well, because Sanji looks ready to abandon his cooking and get into it with Zoro at just the suggestion, and Chopper is a mess of anxious tears again. “Do your tests after breakfast.”

Sanji shoots him a dark look, but he’s plating golden toast and twirling out the door, calling to the girls. “What kind of jam would my angels like? The rest of you morons, food’s up!”

Over breakfast, Nami explains the legends she and Robin heard during the festival. Apparently there’s a temple up in the mountainous rainforest farther inland, dedicated to the deity of the island. The festival used to feature a procession up the mountain to deliver offerings, but the islanders decided the trek was too dangerous.

“Too dangerous?” Usopp says. “I think I caught something on the island after all, it’s definitely I-can’t-go-places-the-locals-are-afraid-of disease, or maybe a rare strain of abandoned-temples-give-me-hives-itis, it’s hard to tell-”

“Sounds like fun! Sanji, we need pirate bentos!” Luffy announces, and they all know that’s that. For all that Zoro’s got a bone to pick - sorry, Brook - with this island now, he’s always up for a challenge, and traveling through a dangerous rainforest promises to test his skills. If the temple is occupied he can tell this so-called god what he thinks about its festival.

“The locals mentioned strange plants and a variety of unlikely phenomena,” Robin says. “Much of it is likely exaggerated, but we should be prepared.”

Usopp looks fearfully intrigued at the mention of plants, and doesn’t protest too much when Nami assigns him to the “away” group. They decide to leave just Chopper and Franky to look after the ship, since Chopper is still affected by the climate and Franky is more interested in getting some maintenance done than exploring a ruined temple. Chopper manages to drag Sanji into his office while everyone is getting ready, and the curly-brow emerges looking surly but no worse for the wear, not that Zoro was worried. The idiot would deserve it if he’d caught some gross disease.

“We’ll take SUPER good care of the Sunny while you’re gone!” Franky waves them off, and Luffy bounces away like he’s been shot from a cannon.

“Come back here, you-” Nami starts, before shaking her head in resignation. “We’ll catch up to him. There’s only one path out of the town, so let’s go.”

“Keep up, marimo,” the cook mutters, not bothering to kick at him. Zoro frowns, turning the opposite way he’d been heading to follow. 

“Hope you’re not too worn out to do this hike after your big night, curly-brow,” Zoro retorts, but it falls just as flat. The cook flushes and snarls but doesn’t engage. Robin glances between them with a meaningful tilt to her head.

There’s hardly been time for the cook to get weird about last night, but Zoro can feel it coming like Nami can sense storms. This doesn’t have to be a big deal, but the idiot curly-cook is making it into one. Now they’re going to have to fight it out on some godforsaken mountainside while Nami screams at them.

Zoro is over it in the broad sense, and he’ll get past the details of the mess at the festival soon enough. He’s long since processed his feelings for Sanji and put them aside - impossible, and even if he had a chance it’s a distraction that could get in the way of his dream, get in the way of protecting the crew. It’s enough of a reason to help him keep those feelings down. He’s not the type to let a problem fester, but Zoro will admit that he’s feeling a little sore about it today, so if the cook wants a fight he’ll get one.

There’s a dirt path at the edge of town leading up into the mountains, and Luffy is waiting there, rocking eagerly on his heels. “Hey Sanji, is it time for lunch yet? This mountain is reeeally tall, so I’ll need plenty of energy, right? Give me my-”

“It’s not lunchtime, rubber idiot,” the cook says, kicking Luffy into the trees. Their captain just laughs, bounding back to the group and circling like an excited puppy as they begin the climb.

“I wonder what kind of dangers we’ll find,” Robin muses, running her fingers along the vibrant foliage lining the path. “Man-eating plants, perhaps? Ruins haunted by ancient worshippers, or undead priests? Perhaps extremely large bugs, in an environment like this…”

The crew flinches each in turn, as Robin calmly suggests all of their worst fears. “Who knows how long the temple has really been abandoned. There may be nothing to find, or it may have become a lair of wild beasts. Surely there’s a good reason why no one ventures near anymore…”

“Bet it’s bugs,” Zoro says, watching Sanji twitch. Maybe he can break this building tension now.

“I hope there’s FOOD!” 

“Why would there be food?” Sanji snaps, nearly losing his cigarette as he sends Luffy careening into the greenery again.

The idiot’s smoking more than usual. He’s going to give himself away, acting so obviously bothered.

Nami huffs and takes the lead, keeping an eye on the map she got from one of the townspeople and ordering Luffy back when he starts straying too far. Usopp calms down enough to start paying attention to their surroundings, exclaiming over some of the plants. After a few minutes Sanji seems interested too, and with Robin’s input they can name a use for nearly everything in sight. It’s a calm start to this adventure, as peaceful as anything gets with the Strawhats. Zoro hangs back a little, keeping an eye on the crew, and Brook ambles back to walk with him.

“Forgive me for asking, Zoro-san, but as one swordsman to another - is something amiss between you and our dear cook? Sanji-san seems unbalanced after last evening’s festival, and your attention has focused on him more often than usual this morning.”

The skeleton peers at him, and Zoro freezes for a moment. He always forgets that Brook can be as canny as Robin, when he’s not cracking skull jokes and making the crew laugh.

“It’s nothing,” Zoro mutters. Up ahead, Sanji goes from grinning at something Usopp is saying to fawning over whatever plant Robin has just offered them. “He’ll sort himself out.”

“I believe you, Zoro-san,” Brook assures him. “Know that I am here if you need a heart to heart chat - though I do not have a heart, oho, skull joke! But it does not do to keep matters of the heart to yourself. Those feelings are meant to be shared, and your crewmates are here if you have need of us, always!”

Zoro stares at him, but meeting those empty eye sockets is freaky. “Thanks, I guess.” Has Robin said something? She knows how Zoro feels, because she knows everything about everyone, but has he been that obvious? Does the cook suspect it too?

That skirt-chasing idiot? There’s no way. He’s offering Nami a bouquet of rainforest flowers, waxing poetic about her hair as usual. Zoro would have to be much more obvious to get Sanji’s attention, and the most he could expect in response would be a horrified kick to the head.

Noon rolls around, or as near as they can tell with the heavy rainforest canopy diffusing the sunlight, but Nami won’t let them stop to eat. Sanji doles out his bentos and they keep trekking up, the trees growing taller and broader, the humid dimness more thorough. It’s quieter too, the birds higher in the canopy and the ground beneath their feet more dominated by thick roots than dead leaves. They cross over a rushing stream on a log so thick with moss that even Zoro thinks of his own hair, and he sees something large flash through the water beneath them.

“I think things are about to get weird,” he says flatly, and the rest of the crew share uneasy glances. Well, not Luffy, but their captain is never scared.

They start seeing flickers of light between the trees after that, always just out of sight through the underbrush.

“Some kind of fireflies,” Robin says, using her power to get a better look. She looks satisfied. “As I thought, they’re quite large.”

Usopp looks torn between fear and curiosity, and they have to restrain Luffy from chasing after the lights.

“That’s a great way to get lost, idiot,” Nami tells him. “Don’t follow the lights.”

Luffy pouts, and the cook eyes the thick forest with a pale scowl. Zoro scoffs. The idiot is so weird about bugs.

Next, a light rain begins to fall and some of the ropey vines along the path start moving. Again, Usopp can’t seem to decide between running and screaming or trying to get a closer look. Nami reels him back in but her pace has slowed; the path is nearly gone in the undergrowth, too unmaintained to withstand the vibrant jungle. Consulting her map, she points them upwards, their route climbing a steep, rocky expanse riddled with exposed roots. It’s slippery in the rain but they’re all more than capable, the earlier cheerful atmosphere the only casualty to the difficult climb. It’s a slog, good exercise but Zoro is beginning to think he should have just stayed on the Sunny to train. 

“This is boring,” Luffy announces, and before Nami can stop him, “I’m going ahead! See you at the top!” With that he’s gone, slingshotting himself up over the edge of the slope and out of sight.

“It’s always something with this guy,” Sanji mutters, prompting Robin’s laugh to chime out over Nami’s grumbling.

They don’t have long to wonder what’s next. “Hey, Nami! Robin! There’s a weird statue up here, it’s got these loooong arms and the flowers around it are really big, I’m gonna-”

“Don’t you dare!” Nami screams, and even Robin looks dismayed, but it’s too late. A pervasive cracking noise fills the air, and the roots threaded across the stone start moving, tearing up the rocks around them. Zoro glances down.

They’re pretty high up, actually. Somewhere along the way the slope Nami started them on became a cliff, and even though the rainforest is still growing up around them, Zoro can see treetops below them too. This won’t be pretty.

He sees Usopp wrap himself around a tree, sees Robin activate her ability in time to catch herself and Nami not too far from the sharpshooter. Brook goes flying off in the initial surge, all bones as he is, and Zoro can hear his scream fading into the jungle to their right. The cook starts to Sky Walk towards the girls, yelling something stupid, but one of the thrashing roots clips him, tossing the idiot down in the opposite direction. Zoro is just falling; he doesn’t have any fancy tricks to stop this sort of thing, but when a particularly large chunk of rock falls towards him he slashes it in half, making eye contact with Robin through the split.

She smiles, an extra hand sprouting near her crossed arms to wave at him, and Zoro’s eyes widen. A suspiciously soft touch adjusts his trajectory, and as he spins with the impact Zoro catches a glimpse of golden hair vanishing into the trees below. Robin is such a meddler.

Crashing through the canopy slows his fall somewhat, but the landing still hurts like hell. Zoro lies still for a moment, taking stock of his body, but nothing feels broken so he must be fine. Something rustles in the undergrowth, so he sits up and stretches his shoulders out; maybe it’s time for the dangerous wild animals Robin was speculating about.

It’s just the cook, though. He’s bleeding a little and there’s a tear in his shirt, but he doesn’t look any worse than Zoro feels and his frown is firmly in place, so he's probably fine too.

“Marimo,” he says, glancing around. “Any sign of the others?”

Zoro shrugs, standing to brush himself off. “Think most of them are still near the top. Brook went the other direction, but Robin caught herself and the witch.”

“Don’t talk about Nami-san like that,” Sanji says automatically, but he’s looking up at the canopy as if he can see the girls from here. “Ahh, Robin-chan~! So talented~!”

Zoro wonders what the idiot would say if he knew his beloved Robin-chan made sure Zoro fell as close to him as possible.

“So mosshead,” the cook continues, “guess we’d better catch up. Temple’s at the top, yeah?”

“Dunno how we’ll find it.” The whole rainforest looks the same.

“Those will probably help,” Sanji says, laconically pointing behind Zoro. “C’mon, marimo.”

It’s a small statue, hip-high and overgrown with moss, a vaguely human shape with one arm outstretched. Through the trees, Zoro can see another, just close enough to make out.

Sanji pats it cheerfully as he passes, glancing over his shoulder at Zoro. “Your much more useful cousins,” he says, and the grin on his face is so uncharacteristically sincere to be directed at Zoro that he doesn’t even respond to the insult.

The statues lead them slowly up, and in places there are even traces of a road, bits of pavement visible through the forest debris. It’s much easier than the last path, and Sanji is strangely quiet, giving Zoro too much time to think and watch him. The cook’s hair is damp and mussed, his shirt collar askew, and it’s too close to how he looked last night. Zoro never thought he’d see what the cook looks like taken by genuine passion, has never let himself imagine it, and now he can’t get the memory out of his head. He’s unbearably jealous of all the strangers who have caused that expression. He’s furious that he saw when the cook was in such a compromising position. He’s-

“Hey, shit-swordsman,” Sanji says, and Zoro jumps, realizing he’s been staring at the nape of the cook’s neck where his damp hair is swept away from the skin. Sanji gives him a strange look but his voice is level, and he’s obviously trying to keep his cool. “What was that about last night? Coming out of nowhere like that, and then disappearing.”

“It’s my job to keep an eye on the crew,” Zoro says carefully. Sanji is going to blow up at him any second; Zoro just hopes he can get his point across before they wreck this section of rainforest. “We’re nakama. I know you… wouldn’t do that, normally.”

“I don’t need you running around protecting my - my _ virtue _, or whatever you thought you were doing,” Sanji snaps, biting through a cigarette.

“Whatever, curly. I know you. You were in over your head, and I know you’d never give a blowjob without one of your precious women holding your hair,” Zoro retorts. So much for delicacy.

“You think you know me? Never say never, marimo,” the cook snarls, and Zoro’s world spins. “What, you think I couldn’t do it?”

“What?”

The idiot love-cook’s brain catches up to his mouth and he flushes, but doesn’t back down. “I just mean, you never know with love, right? I won’t slam a door I haven’t seen yet. I could totally do it.”

This is worse than knowing it was impossible. Sanji will do anything for love - it’s practically half of his personality. Zoro always assumed that love was only extended to women. Now he’s getting the feeling it’s just not extended to him.

“Should’ve let you practice then,” Zoro taunts.

Sanji hisses, lifting a foot that’s already on fire, steam rising from the damp mulch of the rainforest floor. Zoro knows his answering grin is feral. This is the core of whatever’s between them; they aren’t meant to talk things out. There’s no space for the irritated mess of feelings Zoro’s still beating down-

But Sanji lowers his leg, looking away from Zoro and lighting a new cigarette with jerky movements. It shocks the swordsman. They need to figure this out. What will he do if Sanji won’t fight him? They don’t have any other way to get through it.

“I’m not trying to start a fight with you right now,” the cook says, like it’s Zoro’s fault when he’s the one standing in a scorched patch.

“Why not?”

The idiot blinks at the question, visible eye widening from his angry glare. Some of the tension dissipates, and okay, maybe they can still talk this through after all. Sanji gestures at Zoro to keep walking, and takes a few slow breaths of smoke before speaking again.

The whole situation is giving Zoro whiplash. “Look, ero-cook, I wasn’t thinking you were some kind of damsel in distress, or whatever bullshit your fevered brain came up with. And I won’t think differently of you over anything you do or don’t do in private. Can’t we just-”

“Shut up before I kick you for real, marimo,” Sanji growls. “Shit, it’s weird enough that you think of me at all. I know all that, but it’s still embarrassing to get caught in such an intimate moment.”

“Still,” the cook adds, “that was more than I’d bargained for. I’ll only say this once, so you’d better listen the first time - you were right, and I should thank you. I won’t, but that’s how it is.”

Zoro trips over his own feet. Maybe the cook caught some weird jungle disease, and that’s why he’s talking this way. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Sanji retorts. “I just want to know - why? Why did you come looking for me, why’d you bother?”

“Already told you - it’s my job to look after the crew,” Zoro says, even if he can’t meet Sanji’s eye while he does.

“Not like you to be shifty, marimo.”

“I care about you, idiot,” Zoro growls. “Like I said, we’re nakama. We fight a lot but it’s not like I want to see you humiliated. What are you getting at?”

Zoro needs Sanji to shut up and take him at his word. Maybe the cook won’t lose his mind if he learns that Zoro cares about him differently than the rest of the crew, but Zoro doesn’t want to test it. He’s not going to give some kind of stupid confession now, in the middle of this drippy forest, and not later either, if he can avoid it.

“Only you get to mess with me, marimo?” Sanji raises his curly eyebrow and takes a slow drag of his cigarette, watching Zoro out of the corner of his eye. Zoro glares back, refusing to be lulled by that vibrant blue, and the cook eventually looks away, releasing the smoke with a sigh. Zoro wonders if the cook even really wants to know.

“We should hurry up if we’re gonna get to the top of this shitty mountain before dark.”

Luckily the trail of little statues is easy to follow. The conversation has left Zoro feeling wrung out, like he’s used up all his emotions for the day. Occasionally Sanji will mutter something under his breath, or monologue about how he’s worried about Nami and Robin, but none of that requires Zoro’s input. It’s like walking in silence, and Zoro is glad of it. Periodic bouts of rain make the ground slick as it drips through the trees, and it’s dim under the thick rainforest canopy. The path is scattered with fallen logs and large rocks and fast-moving washouts, and the bits of ancient pavement shift under their feet, making progress difficult enough without bickering with the cook.

It’s hard to tell time in here. The quality of the light changes, but Zoro doesn’t know what it means. The statues continue and the path eventually widens, and finally there’s a clear space in the trees, the forest opening out onto a large, crumbling building complex cloaked in fog.

Luffy runs out as they approach, rubber arms stretching to grab at them. “Finally! You guys took so long!”

“Shitty rubber captain,” Sanji mutters as the dust clears, Luffy’s enthusiasm landing them all in a heap against the heavy doors of the complex’s outer walls.

“I found a big deer thing,” Luffy says. “Cook it for me, Sanji!”

In fact, there are several large forest deer waiting for the cook’s attention just inside the courtyard, and Usopp is putting the finishing touches on an equally massive cooking fire. Sanji immediately goes to fuss over it while Luffy cheers. The girls are waiting nearby and even Brook made it back before them.

“Welcome back, Swordsman-san,” Robin says.

“Are we gonna get attacked by some freaky local god for cooking in his courtyard?” Zoro asks, instead of demanding to know what she thought she was up to, forcing him to make the hike back up with the cook.

“As exciting as that would be, I do not think so. Stranger things have happened,” she adds almost hopefully, “but there’s no sign of higher life forms in this temple. The decorations are very interesting, more natural than I expected.”

“There are a bunch of locked doors, though,” Nami says. She’s glowing with avarice, enough to outshine her usual cautious approach to dangerous situations. “Come help me open them.”

The cook is yelling, threatening to tie Luffy in knots if he touches the meat too soon in between describing plants he wants Usopp and Brook to go look for. Maybe it will be good to get out of his sight for a while.

Nami leads him through the main door of the temple, dragged open just far enough for them to pass, fresh scarring in the moss thick across the threshold. This room is lit by high, narrow windows but Nami passes through it, picking up a torch she must have left earlier and waving him impatiently down a hallway at the back of the cavernous space. There is indeed a locked door at the end of it, but Nami whirls on him right at the entrance, pinning him to the wall with sharp eyes.

“What’s wrong with you and Sanji-kun?”

Zoro gapes at her.

“Robin is just being cryptic, but you’re going to tell me,” Nami threatens. “What did you do?”

“Why don’t you think _ he _did something?” Zoro asks. 

“He’s the one looking over his shoulder like he’s got a secret. You just look guilty when you look at him.”

“Look, witch, we fight all the time, I don’t know-”

“I know how you feel about him,” Nami interrupts, rolling her eyes. “What, did you finally work up the nerve to say something to him about it?”

Does _ everyone _know about Zoro’s unrequited thing for the idiot cook? Zoro can’t say he’s surprised - Nami is good at getting useful information out of people. Not that this is useful to anyone. The opposite, really.

“Of course not,” he snaps. “I’m never going to tell him.”

Nami’s expression shifts from well-meaning wrath through surprise, landing on honest curiosity. “Why not?”

“What would I say?” It’s not complicated. The only possible results are bad, so why bother. “‘Hey cook, I’ve wanted you for years?’ He’ll just yell at me, and Franky will have to rebuild half the Sunny.”

“It’s not like you to give up,” Nami comments. Zoro can just see the gears turning in that sneaky brain of hers. “You’re as bad as Luffy, throwing yourself into impossible situations.”

“I’m not giving up,” Zoro growls. “I made peace with this ages ago. It’s not a dream, it’s just feelings.”

Nami gives him a pitying look, the one reserved for when one of the crew is saying something especially stupid. Zoro hates that look. It’s usually followed by immediate proof that the idiot in question was wrong.

“You should say something,” she says. “I won’t even charge you for this advice, so listen up-”

“Nami-swaaaan, some hors d'oeuvres for your treasure search? It’s-”

“-you should tell him you love him.”

“-the least I can offer my angel-”

Sanji twirls into the hall, nearly dropping a tray of artfully cut fruit. He fumbles, barely keeping it from overturning. His visible eye is wide, the glowing ember of his cigarette very bright in the gloom as it falls from his mouth.

Zoro replays the last few seconds. Nami didn’t use the cook’s name, didn’t refer to him in any specific way. Sure there aren’t a lot of options, but maybe the curly-browed idiot won’t think she meant him. After their little heart-to-heart on the way here he’d have to be wilfully oblivious not to get it, but if Sanji is anything he’s that.

“It’s so kind of Nami-swan to give the marimo advice,” Sanji says. The words are normal - instinctive, apparently - but the look on his face is panicked. “Meet someone special in town, shit-swordsman? You’d better not burden Nami-san with your troubles. I’ll leave these here, Nami-swan, that barbecue needs tending!”

Zoro has never seen the cook get out of Nami’s sight so fast. The fruit is arranged on a large, stiff leaf, Zoro notes distantly, staring at that instead of looking at Nami. She sighs, snatching up a heart-shaped piece of something orange and popping it into her mouth before tugging on his sleeve.

“C’mon, Zoro. I think the treasure will be in the far back, but the door is jammed. Get it open for me and I’ll reduce your debt. Luffy would have taken the whole ceiling down.”

Slicing up the stuck door is easy. It’s only a few inches of solid stone, nothing too tough. Sure enough the room is full of treasure, glittering in the light of Nami’s torch. She stops trying to give him advice and puts Zoro to work lugging the stuff out into the main room of the temple. Zoro is glad, both that she’s distracted and that he has something to focus on besides wondering what disastrous narrative Sanji is cooking up in that overdramatic way of his.

The smell of the love-cook’s perfect barbecue is wafting through the humid jungle air, though, so it’s impossible not to think of him. Soon enough they’re all out in the courtyard, eating together in the firelight. Someone put more wood on the fire and it’s roaring like a living thing; across it, Sanji stays as precisely opposite Zoro as possible, barely visible through the flames.

Luffy eats an entire deer and Robin tells a ghost story, making Brook and Usopp wail like children. Sanji ignores Zoro with painfully obvious effort as he fawns over Nami and Robin, and the girls give each other looks that speak volumes even to Zoro’s unpracticed eye. Finally Nami orders them to unpack their camping gear and get some sleep, which Zoro is all too happy to do. This day needs to be over.

He gets up for the last watch of the night, relieving Usopp. Nami and Robin are asleep with the treasure in the temple, leaving the men scattered around the courtyard. The fire has burned down, the light from its remaining embers gleaming in Sanji’s hair where’s he’s curled in a corner. It’s brighter than any of the gold Zoro moved for the witch.

Usopp looks like he wants to say something, but Zoro stares him down and the sharpshooter scurries back to his own corner. If another of his nakama tries to talk to Zoro about his love life, he won’t be responsible for the aftermath.

“I already fought off all the really tough, dangerous stuff, so it should be an easy watch, g’night Zoro!” Usopp says in parting. Zoro just grunts. He could use some tough, dangerous stuff right about now. A fight might clear his head.

The rainforest is quiet. Far from silent, with plenty of creatures rustling in the undergrowth, nocturnal birds making eerie calls, dripping water and other mysterious sounds Zoro can’t place, but nothing comes to challenge him. Where the canopy doesn’t quite stretch across the whole temple complex Zoro can see the full moon, its bright light diffused by mist.

It casts a strange, loopy shadow over the courtyard. There’s an oddly shaped decorative fixture at the highest point of the temple, some snake-looking thing Zoro hadn’t noticed earlier that evening. It’s flanked by more of those little humanoid statues, their outstretched arms reaching for it.

Zoro frowns, watching the shadow creep across the courtyard. Now that he’s looking, there are patterns in the pavement, nearly obscured by the growth of plants through the stone. Natural, Robin had called the decorations. This pattern is natural too, enough that it hardly looks deliberate.

The shadow lines up with the mosaic in the pavement, and the courtyard comes to life. Roots burst from the patches of bare dirt where the pavement is broken, vines whip through the air. A cloud of enormous fireflies rise from the forest surrounding the walls, their flickering light making it impossible to parse whatever is happening.

There’s no need to wake the crew. Everyone is already screaming as the ground heaves and bits of stone fly through the air.

“What did you guys do?” Nami yells from the temple entrance. 

“It was the moon!” Zoro replies. “The shadow thing, the stuff on the ground, I don’t know!”

“The moon?” Robin asks, standing calm in the doorway with her arms crossed. Extra hands swat a firefly out of the way, catch a few rocks, deflect some vines. “Fascinating. I wonder if this temple was built by someone possessing a Devil Fruit?”

Usopp and Brook are running around the courtyard screaming. Luffy is swinging from the moving plants and laughing like it’s all a great joke, and Sanji is off somewhere behind Zoro, out of sight but easily heard yelling about protecting Nami and Robin.

“Wonder about that later!” Zoro growls. He slashes a few vines out of the way and dodges a swarm of fireflies. All of this shit seems to be heading right for him, where the rest of his nakama are just warding off random chaos.

A root catches at his ankle, yanking him down. Zoro tries to avoid it but dodges the shadows instead, too hard to gauge with the flickering insect light. It’s not strong enough to hold him and Zoro ducks into a roll as he pulls free from the fall, regaining his feet a ways closer to the door. Nami has vanished, no doubt to protect her treasure.

In the corner of his eye, a swathe of vines catch fire. “Stop grabbing me!” Sanji yells.

Zoro takes another look around. Brook bursts through a patch of vines and fireflies that all fall to pieces as he passes. Luffy swoops by overhead, still howling with laughter. On top of the wall, Zoro can make out Usopp’s silhouette. Nothing is trying to stop any of them.

“When the festival came to the temple, they held weddings here,” Robin says, still standing unaffected in the doorway. “Do you know why it became too dangerous for them?”

“I bet you’re gonna tell me,” Zoro says.

“The original point wasn’t the consummation of lust, as the festival is now,” Robin continues. “Understandable that it became such. Really, it’s so interesting to see how traditions change with time.”

“Unless the festival was originally about stopping this weird plant shit, can you save the history lesson for later?”

“I suppose indirectly that was the point,” Robin says with an inscrutable smile. “This island used to place quite the importance on purity before marriage.”

“Didn’t you just tell me it’s not about lust? Is this some virginity nonsense?” Zoro whacks at another root. This one is thicker than his thigh; the courtyard is looking more and more like a battlefield. “I can’t help with that, and I doubt you can either.”

Robin laughs at him, and catches a firefly that was about to knock Zoro into a mess of spiney vines. “I believe it’s about love. The expression of unfulfilled love, to be precise.”

“What does that even mean?!” This is not the time for Robin’s cryptic meddling.

“New couples kiss at weddings - a first fulfilment of love,” she says. Her smile is positively gleeful. “Perhaps that is the way to stop this. Or perhaps we will all be crushed by these roots and become tribute to the island god that way.”

“How long have you been sitting on that piece of information?” Zoro snaps. He doesn’t wait for an answer, scanning the courtyard for the cook instead. It’s madness, all writhing shadows and flickering lights, and Sanji’s flames only add to it.

The idiot is scampering around, easily reducing the plants to ash but hampered by the distance he’s keeping from the fireflies. Zoro sighs. This had better work, or he’s about to get kicked through the remains of the wall for nothing, not to mention lose what little deniability he has left.

“Shitty - giant - _ bugs _!” the cook grumbles between sharp kicks as Zoro gets close. “Drop dead!”

“They’re no big deal, curly,” Zoro says, more to get his attention than anything.

Sanji jumps like he’s been struck by lightning, taking a heavy step back when his momentum sends him closer to Zoro. “What are you doing here, marimo? Go make sure Nami-san and Robin-chan are safe if you have time to joke around!”

“This is gonna hurt,” Zoro mutters to himself. Sanji looks confused, and Zoro takes the moment when the cook sways out of range of a firefly to grab him by the front of his stupid floral shirt.

It’s a terrible kiss, half a second of awkwardly smashed lips and clicking teeth. Zoro still shivers, feeling his cheeks flush red immediately. Sanji reeks of burning vines and sweat, is already jerking away, but Zoro can smell his familiar cigarettes too, can feel how warm his skin is with exertion. It’s pathetic, but Zoro can’t help thinking that this is the best kiss he’s ever gotten. It’s the best he’s going to get, this one miserably bad kiss with the man Zoro loves.

He lets go in an instant, but can’t back out of Sanji’s range before the cook drives all the force behind those legs straight into his chest. Sanji screams, a sound of incoherent indignation, and even as Zoro crashes into the wall he can see the plants stop moving.

“What the fuck was that, marimo?!” the cook rages. Zoro pulls himself out of a pile of rubble and watches the fireflies return to the forest. Nearby, Robin titters.

“If you say anything to him I’ll kill you,” Zoro coughs at her. Quietly. It’s hard to get a full breath after taking that kick.

“Aww,” Luffy whines, dropping out of the sky next to Zoro. “That was cool. I wanted to bring one of the bugs back for Chopper. Hey Usopp, can you make vines that do that wavy thing?”

“The great Captain Usopp can grow all kinds of fantastical plants, but… why do you want them?” Usopp asks, coming out of a sheltered corner.

“It was so fun! We could put some on the Sunny and ride around!”

“Absolutely not!” Nami calls. She peers around the doorframe, arms full of treasure. “Why did it stop?”

Sanji is still vibrating with rage, muttering under his breath as he lights a cigarette and takes a few furious breaths.

Brook looks between him and Zoro. “Ohoho, perhaps it was-”

“Guess we got lucky,” Zoro says as loudly as he can manage, before falling into another coughing fit. Robin’s hands sprout from the rocks around him to pat his back.

“Truly a mysterious island,” she says.

“Too mysterious,” Nami grumbles. “Let’s get back to the Sunny, and _ now _.”

“Of course, Nami-swan!” Sanji says, but it lacks his usual enthusiasm. Still, he ducks inside with the witch, emerging with his pack bulging with treasure. “Come on, the rest of you layabouts, do as Nami-san says! Not you of course, Robin-chan, I’ll carry your share!”

Nothing bothers them on the way down the mountain, so Zoro has plenty of time to notice Sanji refusing to interact with him. He’s not even surprised at this point. Kissing the idiot is probably the worst thing Zoro could do to him.

It’s like Zoro doesn’t even exist for half the hike, and then the cook starts sneaking glances at him. Zoro can’t interpret them. Sanji doesn’t look angry anymore; there’s an unfamiliar furrow in his brow, and he keeps rolling his cigarette across his lips the way he does when he’s thinking hard.

Maybe he can come up with an excuse, and Sanji will still at least talk to him. Robin might help him, give him some esoteric mumbo-jumbo to keep the cook from realizing why it had to be him. But Zoro doesn’t want to lie, not that directly. He cares about the cook, and he’s not ashamed of that - even though it might fuck up their relationship, whatever that is, forever. Besides, Sanji is smart, and Zoro has dropped his guard on this island too many times already. One half-baked lie won’t stop the cook from realizing the truth.

He’s just going to have to man up and accept the consequences. Zoro doesn’t think the cook would do anything crazy like leave the crew over this, not if he can convince Sanji that he’ll never try anything with him. Maybe Sanji will never be comfortable around him again, but most of their interactions are fighting anyway. Zoro can keep away from the cook if it’ll keep him around. Eventually he might even come around and fall back into their usual insults and sparring.

Zoro chats with Brook, listens to Usopp’s stories, and corrals Luffy when he tries to leap off the path. That considering look on Sanji’s face tugs at him, bringing the first hint of a blush to his skin. Sure, part of it is watching the glimpse of Sanji’s tongue between those slightly parted lips, but the strange emotion in his blue eye is more affecting. Shaking it off is hard, even with all their other crewmates to distract him. 

They make it back to the Thousand Sunny in time for a late lunch. Sanji whips up some sandwiches and soup while Chopper fusses over everyone’s scrapes. It’s as delicious as usual, not that Zoro would say that to the cook, but Zoro hardly tastes a bite. He slips out of the galley as soon as he can, feeling Sanji’s eyes on his back.

It’s just as hot as the last few days, but Zoro decides he doesn't care. He deserves a nap and a drink after all this, and he’s not about to challenge the cook for some sake right now. The nap will have to do.

Luffy crashes into him not long after, roughhousing around the deck with Franky and Chopper. “Hi Zoro!”

Zoro groans, rubbing the sleep out of his eye, and makes sure his captain hasn’t knocked his swords into the sea.

“Sanji is almost done cleaning up,” Luffy informs him. “Usopp will do the dishes.”

Why this is important, Luffy doesn’t share. He stretches his arms across the deck, grappling onto Franky and zooming away, leaving a faintly bemused Zoro behind. Chopper’s infectious giggle echoes across the ship.

Sanji emerges from the kitchen moments later, and comes over to the railing near Zoro. He’s trying for casual, that much is obvious, but the careful nonchalance as he lights a cigarette is too deliberate.

Zoro watches warily, trying himself not to tense up or go for his swords. They were able to talk earlier and maybe that will work again, if he can avoid starting a fight.

“Walk with me,” Sanji finally says. Zoro stares until Sanji glares at him. “Today, marimo.”

“Fine, curly-brow.”

Sanji’s breath hisses out between his teeth, but he doesn’t retort. They jump out onto the pier, and Zoro can hear Luffy and Chopper chattering behind them.

“Where are they going, Luffy?”

“Sanji and Zoro need to talk. We’ll see them soon.”

“Don’t wander off,” Sanji mutters, grabbing Zoro’s arm as he finds himself facing out to sea again. 

“Not like you said where we’re going,” Zoro retorts. Sanji just gives him a withering look and doesn’t let go of Zoro, hand wrapped firmly around his bicep.

“Thought you might want some privacy for this conversation,” Sanji says, leading them off the dock. “I know I do.”

Almost as cryptic as Robin, and the cook’s statement gives him the same sense of crawling dread that Robin’s uncanny humor can. Sanji must not be planning to hold back, if he wants to get Zoro alone for this.

Zoro still doesn’t get why it has to be a big deal. Why can’t Sanji just tell him his stupid feelings are unwanted and get over it? Nothing has to change; Zoro’s already spent this long not acting on the unusual affection he has for the idiot love-cook. They could yell and fight about it a little, but Sanji already got in a good kick back up on the mountain. What more does he want?

They walk along the coast and out of the town, Sanji still holding on to Zoro like he’s going to run away. That’s stupid - Zoro doesn’t run from much of anything, and even if he doesn’t want to talk about this he’ll still face the inevitable rejection like a man. He won’t run from Sanji.

The rainforest starts farther inland, so the coast is mostly sandy slopes and low-lying plants. A breeze off the ocean makes the heat bearable, and at least it’s not raining here. They crest a high dune and the town vanishes behind them, leaving only sand and patches of grass blowing in the wind.

Sanji stops halfway down the slope, dropping to the sand and pulling Zoro down beside him. A lizard skitters away, taking shelter in a patch of some plant with thick leaves and bright purple flowers. Finally letting go of Zoro, Sanji wraps his arms loosely around his knees and gazes out at the ocean.

This is a cook Zoro doesn’t know what to do with, sitting still and quiet. He’s not even smoking, just taking slow breaths with a neutral expression on his face.

It’s awful. Zoro takes a deep breath of his own, ready to dig in and get this over with. “Look, love-cook, just forget about this whole island. I know how you feel about me, or don’t feel, and I’ve already-”

“Hold on, marimo. Didn’t we just have this conversation, about what you think you know about me?” Sanji shakes his head, looking back at Zoro. “You’re skipping the important parts, like whatever the fuck it is you think I should forget about this place.”

“All of it,” Zoro growls. “The party, the stupid forest, the mess at the temple.”

“At the temple… I would never eavesdrop on Nami-swan, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Then when the plants and everything stopped…” Sanji trails off with a sigh. “You have some explaining to do, marimo.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Zoro doesn’t want to say it out loud, but that’s the fastest way out of this mess. “I’m in love with you, idiot.”

Sanji blushes bright red at that, leaning back a little with wide surprised eyes.

“It’s not important,” Zoro presses on. He has to make this clear, explain it so Sanji will understand that Zoro doesn’t need anything different from him, that they’re nakama and still will be-

“What do you mean not important?” Sanji snaps. “You can’t say you lo- can’t say that and tell me it’s not important.”

“I just mean it’s clear what you’ll say,” Zoro repeats. “I know you don’t feel the same.”

“What do you think I feel, shit-swordsman?” 

If the conversation keeps going in circles like this, the indignant look on Sanji’s face is going to become real anger, but Zoro doesn’t see the way out yet.

“You hate me,” he says. “You’re in love with every girl we come across, but we only ever fight. I don’t expect you to feel anything like I do.”

Sanji pauses, staring into Zoro’s eye. “You know I don’t actually hate you, right?”

“Yeah,” Zoro says, grudgingly. He knows that they have a solid relationship, that they’re inseparable as family under their rivalry. Even the rivalry is healthy, a way to keep each other challenged. It’s much easier to compartmentalize when he phrases it that way, though. “But it’s the same either way. Don’t worry about it, curly. I’m not gonna kiss you again or anything.”

“Why not?” Sanji says, and by his immediate flush it was an instinctive retort, but he doesn’t take the question back. “I mean, that hardly counts. Really, marimo, I’m practically honor-bound as a gentleman to set you straight, if you thought that was any kind of proper kiss.”

“What are you trying to say?” Zoro asks, bewildered. Sanji doesn’t make much sense at the best of times, but that can’t possibly mean what it sounds like.

“You’re so sure I’d turn you down flat without giving you a chance,” Sanji mutters. “I said it before, didn’t I? That love is worth trying new things for.”

Zoro can feel his heartbeat racing. Sanji is still glaring at him, red-faced with embarrassment instead of anger. The moment feels surreal, and, well, Zoro can think of one good way to find out what the idiot cook means. If he’s wrong, maybe they can still forget this island ever existed.

He reaches out carefully, unable to resist gently smoothing Sanji’s hair back from his face, even if he’s sure the cook will yell at him for behaving like he’s fragile. Zoro doesn’t dare go for the side where Sanji’s hair conceals that eye, but the gesture still makes the idiot shiver.

“Can I kiss you?” Zoro asks, barely louder than the wind in the sparse grass around them.

“Don’t ask unnecessary questions, marimo,” is Sanji’s response, but he says it with a jerky nod, and meets Zoro halfway.

It’s no surprise that Sanji kisses well, stupid orally-fixated idiot that he is. It suits his image too, the romantic gentleman aspects at least; the kind of skill that pleases a partner. Zoro is in no state to really judge, still shocked that they’re kissing at all. He’s content to follow Sanji’s pace, parting his lips in turn when the cook tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Sanji is less confident with his hands, flitting from Zoro’s hair to his shoulders, chiming through his earrings and brushing his ribs. Kissing is fairly universal, Zoro supposes, but it makes sense that the love-cook doesn’t really know what else to do with a male partner. 

He has one of his own hands holding the back of the cook’s head and the other on his thigh, opening his legs enough to keep close as Zoro leans between them. The muscles tensing under his hand make Zoro want to touch him more - Sanji’s strength is one of Zoro’s favorite things about him, naturally - but he holds himself back. Zoro takes a moment to direct one of the cook’s hands to his waist and Sanji’s other arm settles around his neck. For a few minutes, Zoro concentrates on just kissing the love-cook.

It’s good, so good. Zoro can hardly believe it when Sanji moans into his mouth, a small sound he can barely hear over the pounding of his own heart. That the cook would actually enjoy kissing him is beyond anything Zoro bothered to hope for.

They pull apart, breathing heavily. Sanji’s flushed, heavy-lidded expression isn’t quite the one Zoro shouldn’t have seen during the festival - he likes this one better. Zoro moves his hands to the cook’s waist and Sanji slings his other arm around Zoro’s shoulders, holding him loosely. They stare at each other for a long moment.

The sun is setting, a glorious wash of pastels over the ocean. Zoro doesn’t usually give much attention to things like that, but everything seems especially valuable right now. Besides, the soft colors complement the strong blue of Sanji’s eyes perfectly.

“What’s that dopey smile for,” Sanji asks. He shouldn’t; there’s an abnormally sweet tilt to his lips too.

“That was a good kiss,” Zoro says. His voice is rougher than he expects, and Sanji looks embarrassed before switching to indignation.

“Only good? I’m an excellent kisser, and you should be grateful.”

“Dunno, you might have to prove it again.”

Will there be an again? Zoro’s not sure what that was, besides the best kiss he’s ever had. He’s been thinking that a lot lately; if he plays this right, will he get to think it even more?

Sanji shifts back a little, regarding Zoro seriously. “I don’t feel the way you do. I think I could, but I won’t say it yet.”

Zoro gapes at him. “I’m shocked you’ll even say that, love-cook.”

“What, do you think I just go around kissing any muscle-brained idiot who asks? You know I don’t, shitty marimo. It would be cruel of me to tease you if I didn’t think we might work.”

That’s fair. They fight, but they’re not cruel to each other, never have been. “You want to try?”

“Yes,” Sanji says, and Zoro is fairly sure this feeling can only be surpassed by defeating Mihawk. “But we should head back to the Sunny, marimo, or they’ll sail without us.”

Stumbling to their feet in the soft sand, they start back towards the ship. Sanji takes his hand as they walk, studiously looking off over the ocean and very much not at Zoro. He must be able to feel Zoro’s startled gaze, though.

“You’re gonna have to do some of this kind of stuff, marimo,” Sanji mutters. “Just put up with it.”

Zoro hums, settling Sanji’s hand in his. Why would he have a problem with holding hands with the love-cook? Sanji is so careful with his hands. They’re so important to him, it’s practically like Zoro letting somebody handle his swords. Besides, he knows what Sanji’s like. The idiot loves pampering people, small gestures of affection. Zoro can go along with romantic shit like this.

“Anyway,” the cook says, continuing a conversation they must be having in his head. “I’d have to be some kind of idiot not to think you’re attractive. Women deserve all the love and attention I can give them, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“You don’t have to try to reassure me,” Zoro says. “I’m not gonna pick apart why you’re willing.”

“Who’s trying to reassure you, shit-swordsman?”

Sanji might be trying to reassure himself, Zoro’s not sure. Either way he’s not going to push it; stressing the cook out about this decision could only be a mistake. Sanji is high-strung at best, deliberately contrary and flighty well before his worst, and Zoro doesn’t want to scare him off.

“Relax, ero-cook.”

A moment of silence, where Sanji looks at him askance and Zoro watches the sunset colors reflecting off the cook’s golden hair. It’s still unreal.

“Hey marimo,” Sanji asks with a wide grin, “Any weird kinks I should know about?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? You’re the one who gets a nosebleed over a pretty face and messes around with multiple partners, and that’s just this week!” 

“Oh, I’ll play around,” Sanji says, still choosing to tease instead of explode at that comment. “Just… maybe not too many new things at once. We’ve already established that I was outside of my comfort zone with this festival.”

He sneaks a glance at Zoro after that, dropping his hand to light a cigarette. Vulnerable, Zoro realizes, and he can respect that. Carefully. 

“At your pace, cook,” he says, not sure how to navigate between acknowledging Sanji’s particular inexperience and pushing the cook into a defensive rage.

Must be close enough, because Sanji takes a few puffs of smoke and scowls at him, but they manage to walk the rest of the way to the pier in peace. Zoro can smell something weird as they approach, and Nami is waiting for them at the shore.

“Usopp exploded an experiment in the men’s bunk,” she says. “I keep telling him not to work on chemical weapons in there. It’s some kind of stink bomb this time, so we’ll stay here another night and let the ship air out. Franky’s working on some modifications anyway,” she adds, gesturing down the pier.

Zoro doesn’t know a lot about shipbuilding, but that looks like the Sunny’s rudder laid out on the dock. They’re not going anywhere without that. Franky sets down a metal support and gives him a giant thumbs-up.

“Yow! I thought of some SUPER improvements, so just you wait! By the time we leave she’ll be even more amazing than ever!”

“We can afford to stay on shore after getting the treasure,” Nami continues. She seems way too sanguine about the situation. “But I’m not paying for nine rooms! So you two will have to share.”

She glares, jabbing Zoro sternly in the chest. Behind her, Franky is still flashing his thumbs-up, with a ridiculous grin and some additional robotic contortions.

“Nami-swan is so generous~!” Sanji carols. Nami has an agenda, is what Zoro thinks.

“None of the hotels in town had enough rooms, so we’re staying at a resort at the base of the mountain,” she continues. “They have a nice restaurant there, so you’re off duty tonight, Sanji-kun.”

Zoro narrows his eye. “Didn’t Usopp finish a stink bomb last month?”

“I don’t keep track of Usopp’s ridiculous inventions,” Nami snaps. “I’m going to the resort. Robin and I booked a spa treatment.”

“I’ll accompany you, Nami-swan!”

“I’ll see if Franky needs a hand,” Zoro says. It will give Sanji time to settle.

“Yow! We’ll be there for dinner, sis! I’ll show Zoro-bro the way when we’ve got this piece connected,” Franky promises.

Franky does not need Zoro’s help. The cyborg is more than capable of attaching his new metal thing to the rudder - which looks otherwise unchanged - and all Zoro does it hold it steady. He puts his back into it anyway, and they work quietly for the short span of time the project takes.

“I’ll reattach her when the sun’s out,” Franky says, taking a final look at his work. “Ready to go?”

Zoro nods and follows Franky, who still turns him around as they head through the town. “This way, Zoro-bro! It’s not far. Are you excited to spend another night ashore? Skeleton-bro tells me you and Swirly-cook had a moment out in the forest.” Franky waggles his eyebrows, using one of his tiny mechanical hands to lift his sunglasses. “Not to mention! What were you two up to just now?”

“I’m not sure I should talk about that,” Zoro says. Even if it’s common knowledge, which it sure seems to be at this point.

“So manly,” Franky praises, looking ready to cry. “It’s so beautiful, seeing my bros coming together with such awesome passion! If you need any love advice, you’ll come to big bro Franky, yeah?”

“Sure,” Zoro appeases him. Franky bursts into tears. Never. He will never ask any of his crazy nakama for advice about Sanji.

Franky cries most of the way to the resort, blubbering about his beloved little bros and their SUPER passionate manly love. There’s something about youthfulness in there too, and using what nature gave you, with a tangent about trains and mechanics and the properties of silicone that Zoro very seriously does not want to hear any more of.

It’s dark by the time they reach the resort, and the path past the edge of the village and into the first border of the rainforest is lined by fireflies. Normal-sized ones, floating through the undergrowth, and carefully trimmed oil torches with little covers keeping the water off. The resort is just far enough out of town to feel secluded, cocooned by the ambient forest noise.

The main building is more gauzy curtains than walls, with low lighting glowing inside and narrow paths snaking off into the rainforest from the wide front patio. Chopper barrels out as they walk up.

“Zoro! Nami got us all suites! There are hot springs!”

Zoro picks up the little reindeer and walks inside. Past the front desk is a more enclosed restaurant area, and he can hear the rest of the crew already. “Fancy place.”

It is, all neat mosaic floors and white plaster walls where the flowing curtains end, outlined in dark wood and lit with low flames in sparkling glass. There’s no sign of the raucous festival atmosphere that’s still pervading the town.

Well, apart from the crew. Luffy acts like everywhere he goes is a festival.

“Zoro! Nami, now that Zoro and Franky are here, can we eat?” Luffy pleads. She nods, and they must have arranged something with the staff, because the food arrives as Zoro takes a seat next to their captain.

“Nobody’s watching the ship?” Zoro asks, counting all of their nakama around them.

“I locked up everything that matters,” Nami says darkly. “If anyone wants you guys’ stuff and is willing to go through Usopp’s mess to get it, they can have it. Brook’s going back after dinner though.”

“Shishishi! Nobody will go in there!” Luffy laughs. “Sunny will be fine!”

“The smell is everywhere,” Chopper says solemnly. “Worse than the heat. It’s funny though, it smells a lot like the last-”

“My very new project will be legendary!” Usopp proclaims, with a hasty glance down the table. “Generations of townspeople will speak of the Great Chemist Usopp and his powerful olfactory explosions!”

“It will be nice to have a quiet evening, don’t you think, Cook-san?” Robin asks, with the kind of cheerful smile that always means she already knows the answer.

“Of course my wonderful angels deserve a luxurious retreat! It’s so kind of Nami-swan to include the rest of us!”

It’s kind of amazing that Sanji can still spout that nonsense, even with a hint of embarrassed color on his cheeks as he fidgets with his silverware. The idiot hardly seems aware of it.

Zoro is very aware of him. He always keeps track of the cook, but after today he has a good reason to be staring more than usual. If it weren’t for the nervous edge to Sanji’s normal behavior, Zoro would think he dreamed up their earlier conversation.

“Zoro looks happy,” Luffy comments, at a normal conversational volume instead of table-wide shouting. He’s sporting one of his intense, insightful expressions, so Zoro turns to respond properly.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, making sure to meet Luffy’s eyes. “I think… I could be really good.”

“Sanji looks happy too,” Luffy tells him. He adjusts his hat and laughs. “You guys are so dumb.”

Zoro sighs and turns to talk to Chopper instead as Luffy shovels an entire platter of pulled pork into his mouth. This means he spends the rest of the meal assuring the doctor that he hasn’t contracted any strange jungle diseases, but at least he’s not hearing that he’s bad at relationships from Luffy, of all people.

“-and if you go in the hot springs, make sure you only stay in for a little while! In this climate it’s especially dangerous-”

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, Chopper,” Nami breaks in, rubbing her temples as everyone gets up to leave. “Sanji-kun, show Zoro where your room is.”

“Of course, Nami-swan! Enjoy your evening!”

Robin smiles at them as Sanji transitions from fawning over Nami’s instructions to grudgingly leading Zoro out into the night air. Brook and Franky both open their mouths with identical expressions of perverted glee, but she turns to interrupt them. For once Zoro is thankful for her meddling.

Sanji is holding him by the arm to lead him again, so once they’re out of sight Zoro pulls at his grip until they’re holding hands like before. The idiot cook blushes. “This place is all little private cabanas,” he mutters. “Way too nice for the likes of you, shitty marimo. Nami-swan should have just put the rest of us up in one of the places in town, I’m sure there was room.” 

It really is too fancy. Their cabin is just far enough from the main building to feel secluded, set at the end of a narrow path paved with patterned stones. There’s a sparkling glass lamp burning inside, and just one is bright enough with the white plaster and light curtains that characterize the rest of the resort. Zoro can hear running water, and suspects that the torchlight he can see through the wide windows dominating the little cabin’s walls marks some of the hot springs Chopper was so worried about.

Two fluffy robes hanging just inside the far door, two sets of resort pajamas laid on the washstand beside the one expansive bed, a bottle of wine chilling in ice on the side table. Zoro can feel his own face flaming now; this is ridiculous.

“I can go find Luffy and Usopp,” he blurts out. “I’ll sleep on their floor. We don’t have to- this is a lot. We don’t have to do anything. I meant what I said, that-”

“I know what you said,” Sanji interrupts. “Shitty marimo. Let’s take that-” he jerks his head at the wine “-and check out these hot springs, so we don’t waste Nami-san’s money.”

Sanji glares at him, then strips out of his goofy floral shirt, hanging it carefully. He loses his pants next, and Zoro quickly looks away as Sanji hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, removing those too and striding over to the robes on the far wall. Zoro gives it a moment before glancing over to where Sanji is standing wrapped in a fluffy robe, with red cheeks and a determined expression.

“I’ll catch up to you,” Zoro manages to say. He just needs a second. After that flash of pale skin he’s not going to strip in front of the cook, the future of five minutes from now notwithstanding.

“Don’t get lost,” Sanji says suspiciously. He grabs the wine and leaves, white-robed shape quickly obscured by the darkness and rainforest foliage.

Zoro has a vested interest in getting to these hot springs; he’s not about to get lost. Undressing, he leaves his own clothes in an untidy pile on the floor. The robe is kind of stupid but better than wandering through the rainforest naked so Zoro puts it on, sloppily tying the sash. Good enough for something that’s coming back off momentarily.

The rounded stones of the path are smooth under Zoro’s bare feet. Burbling water and the low calls of nocturnal birds interrupt the soft swish of leaves shifting in the dark. The air is still, the torches lighting the way steadily; Zoro watches the shine of their flame dancing across the patterns in the path until he can see it sparkling against water, refracted by steam.

A narrow stream runs off into the thick rainforest, enveloping the footbridge Zoro crosses next. It’s decorative, completely unnecessary - the stream is barely a stride across. It’s there for atmosphere; once Zoro is over it he enters a grotto scattered with carefully placed rocks and tall, manicured plants. The stream tumbles out of a series of pools, all the ground between them paved with the same curling patterns of stone and stands of screening greenery.

“Over here, marimo.” Sanji’s voice floats down from one of the pools higher in the chain, and Zoro can just barely make out the gleam of the cook’s hair as he squints through the steam.

Even though this area is completely private, only accessible by the tiny bridge and the path from their cabin unless somebody wanted to bushwhack through the rainforest, Sanji picked a corner of a pool near the edge, heavily overhung with flowering plants. There are hooks drilled into the rock nearby and Sanji’s robe is hanging there.

“Thought you’d take longer,” Sanji says, peering up at Zoro. He’s up to his chin in the pool but straightens a little as Zoro approaches, smirking at him. “Eager to join me?”

Zoro doesn’t bother stroking the cook’s ego, shooting him a halfhearted scowl. He’s more interested in taking in the sight of Sanji’s flushed cheeks, the water dripping from the ends of his hair, the gleam in his eye and the pink tinge to the rest of his visible skin. Between the steam and the bubbling of the hot spring there’s no way to see much else. Probably for the best, for now. He goes for the sash on his robe and Sanji turns away, pretending to fuss with the fall of his hair until Zoro splashes into the pool next to him, leaving the robe in an unceremonious pile at the edge.

“This is great,” Zoro mumbles, closing his eye and feeling the heat soak into his bones. Somehow it’s enjoyable even though this entire island has been humid and hot. When he looks around again Sanji is watching him, but jerks and blushes when he meets Zoro’s gaze.

“Drink?” the cook asks, gesturing at the wine from their room, set on a low outcropping an arm’s length away.

“In a minute.”

Sanji moves to pour the wine anyway. Zoro watches the water run off his hands, and the way his skin moves over the muscles of his back as he turns. Sanji is not delicate, he’s stronger and tougher than nearly anyone Zoro has met, and even if the cook is slimmer and more graceful than most of the powerful foes they challenge he is still their match, and Zoro’s. That said, Zoro does outclass Sanji in bulk and sheer physicality, and even though he can see the strength in the cook’s body there’s something about seeing him undressed that makes him seem vulnerable. It feels like a privilege, and even though Zoro wants to touch, he can wait.

When Sanji moves back next to Zoro, he’s closer than before. Zoro takes a drink and sets his glass on the edge of the pool behind him; Sanji does the same, resting his arm on the edge, and the movement is a transparent excuse to turn in toward Zoro. The ero-cook might be out of his depth, but he knows how to put the moves on someone.

Zoro can’t help but scoff at him, leaning into the idiot’s arm with a lazy smirk. “Want something, love-cook?”

“Yeah,” Sanji says, and Zoro’s eye widens. How can he keep forgetting that Sanji will never back down from him? “Kiss me again.”

Zoro slants his head in and complies, moving his arm to rest against the cook’s and running his other hand through the man’s hair. It’s a simple kiss, but warm and wet and overwhelming. Drawing back, Zoro traces along Sanji’s ear and jaw, both of them breathing deeply as steam rises between them.

Leaning against the side of the pool and resting his head in one hand, Sanji flicks through Zoro’s earrings and tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck with the other. He seems relaxed, lips quirked in a slightly ironic smile. Zoro doesn’t know what to say, so he takes a risk and runs his hand up the cook’s thigh under the water instead.

“Getting handsy, marimo?” 

“How could I not?” Zoro mutters, an automatic retort before his brain catches up to him. He starts to lift his hand away. “If you don’t want-”

Sanji’s grip on his hair tightens and he leans in to kiss Zoro, just for a moment. “It’s fine, marimo. In fact,” and at this his smile turns wicked, “Why don’t you convince me to head back to that nice, private cabana with you.”

This is familiar. Zoro grins, challenge lighting up his nerves through the rising fog of arousal. “Doesn’t seem like you need much convincing.”

It’s impossible to tell if the cook is blushing, the way he’s flushed with the heat. He twitches under Zoro’s hands, though, turning his face away for a moment.

“I’m just glad we’re on the same page,” Zoro continues smoothly. He’s using up weeks’ worth of tact here; the cook is gonna have to give him a break after this. 

Sanji scoffs, looking back at Zoro with a crooked grin. “Didn’t know you could read.”

“This, I can,” Zoro says, stroking his fingers up a little higher, putting both hands on the cook’s hips and leaning in closer. Maybe he sounds more confident than he is, but by the same token Sanji seems to be reacting well to Zoro acting as if the cook is plenty comfortable with the situation… This analysis is too complicated. It’s useless to overthink it, when Zoro already has the cook leaning in to his touch, angling his head for a kiss. “I can read you easily, ero-cook.”

They’re always brash and forward with each other anyway. Zoro will be considerate, but he won’t dance around the cook any more than he has to.

“Let’s go,” Sanji mutters, when their lips part and Zoro moves to kiss the cook’s ear instead. The skin there is too hot to be flushed only from the water.

Zoro knocks back the rest of his wine, only willing to take one hand off Sanji as he does. He gets a good feel of the cook’s ass and thigh for his trouble as Sanji moves to finish his own glass, leaning up out of the water for it.

An exciting eyeful too, and Zoro is _ really _invested in getting back to that bed as soon as possible.

Sanji sets his glass down, glancing between Zoro and the edge of the pool and biting at his lower lip. His robe is handing a few steps away, Zoro’s just out of reach and getting damp from the steam. As much as Zoro would like to just leave them and ogle the cook as they walk back, it seems like Sanji’s not there yet. Stripping earlier was a challenge to himself as much as Zoro, but the mood is different now.

Letting go of the cook, Zoro stretches and leans back with his eye closed. “Hope there’ll be time for another soak in the morning,” he says, filling a few moments, and hears Sanji splash out of the pool. He still peeks as Sanji walks to his robe, but the cook doesn’t catch him so it hardly counts. He’s looking forward to taking that robe back off him in minutes anyway.

“If you can wake up in time,” Sanji retorts, and it’s obviously just a cue that Zoro can look. Well, move, since he was already looking. The robe is probably a blessing, because Zoro is sure he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off the cook for long enough to walk back, without it blocking his view.

He’s trying to do this at the cook’s pace, after all, even if that pace is erratic and fueled by mixed arrogance and bravado as much as desire. It’s not a hardship; he’s used to matching the cook, and Sanji meets Zoro at his level just as often. It’s a challenge in a good way, something to keep him focused.

“Depends how late we’re up,” Zoro says, throwing on his own robe. He pulls the cook in by the waist and places a deliberate kiss on his jaw. Sanji sighs and leans into his hands, ruffling one of his own through Zoro’s hair.

“We’ll be too worn out to do anything else,” the love-cook promises, breathing the words into Zoro’s ear.

Zoro snorts. “Fuck, I love you.”

The words send an illicit little shiver through him, and a full-blown shudder through the cook.

“You can’t just say things like that,” Sanji says indignantly, drawing away just enough to lead Zoro back down the path.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Zoro retorts, more than happy to follow the cook’s lead. “Besides, you like it. I’ll say it as much as I want.”

Sanji looks at him quietly, threading their fingers together. It’s hard to make out his expression in the dark, but Zoro isn’t worried. He strokes his thumb against Sanji’s and brushes their shoulders together, still a bit overwhelmed to be touching the cook so casually, without any antagonism at all.

“We’re still gonna fight,” he says suddenly, making Sanji frown at him as he moves through the curtains into their cabana.

“I don’t doubt it,” the cook replies, lifting an eyebrow. A stupid, curly eyebrow, and yes Zoro still thinks that, no matter how much he likes the cook.

“You’re still really annoying,” Zoro continues, even as he goes for his sash and backs toward the bed. 

“You’re sure you want to start this now?” Sanji asks archly, grabbing Zoro by the shoulder and shoving him back. “If you’re looking for a fight I’ll oblige you, but we’re getting into something a bit more interesting, shit-swordsman.”

“We can fight any time,” Zoro agrees, and really, he’s fought with Sanji enough in this humid jungle. “Take this off, ero-cook.”

Sanji lays his hand over where Zoro is lightly tugging on the front of his robe. “You do it,” he suggests, backing Zoro entirely onto the bed and getting a knee up on the mattress beside him.

Zoro pushes his hand into the robe instead, feeling up Sanji’s warm side and slim torso. The cook pauses as Zoro runs his hand over Sanji’s chest, finally sliding up to his shoulder and pulling the robe open. He lets it slide down the cook’s arm, braced against the bed near Zoro’s hip, and traces along the planes of Sanji’s muscles.

There’s definitely something to this, the cook leaning over him in the softly lit room, robe barely keeping his modesty intact. In the past Zoro hasn’t been much for teasing or foreplay, when he bothered with sex at all, but everything is different with Sanji. Zoro props himself up a little better, watching the cook blush more deeply the longer he stares, and scrapes his teeth along Sanji’s collarbone.

Sanji gasps, and suddenly Zoro is burning with lust instead of the quiet heat of arousal he’s been simmering in all evening. Hauling the cook onto the bed, Zoro flips their positions and pins Sanji down, getting a knee between his legs and mussing his robe even further.

“Bold,” Sanji comments, not resisting Zoro’s hand on his shoulder, the other gripping just above his knee. Instead the love-cook drapes his arms around Zoro’s neck and drags him down, returning the nipping bite to Zoro’s own throat.

“Do you want me to treat you like a delicate lady instead?” Zoro asks breathlessly. It’s hard to concentrate on banter when the cook has hooked one of his stupidly strong legs around Zoro’s thigh and hasn’t taken his mouth from his neck.

“I’ll kill you,” Sanji mutters, nails digging into Zoro’s shoulder blades. “But don’t think you can throw me around, either.”

Zoro nuzzles into Sanji’s hair. There’s that balance again, so Zoro is gentle as he gets a hand back into the cook’s robe but isn’t shy about finally removing the tie and pulling the thing off of him entirely. He forgets about it immediately, white fabric lost in the equally white sheets, and Sanji’s skin against it all barely darker.

“How are you this gorgeous,” Zoro says, holding Sanji down by his hips. Even though the cook isn’t moving at all, Zoro knows that Sanji could still throw him across the room from this position. It’s amazing that he’s not.

“Guess you’re just lucky,” Sanji retorts. “Are you gonna stare all night, or are we doing this?”

Brazen words, but the cook is blushing hard. He always has been a sucker for compliments. “Beyond belief,” Zoro confirms. 

“Then come on,” the cook complains, breaking eye contact as he hikes the leg he’d wrapped around Zoro’s higher, raising his other knee and pulling the swordsman down.

Getting rid of his own robe, Zoro throws an arm up beside Sanji’s head for balance and kisses him. He needs the distraction as their hips come together; at least this way his gasp could be due to either. Their skin is still damp from the hot spring, lessening some of the friction as Zoro settles against the cook. Sanji moans into the kiss, a noise he quickly stifles against Zoro’s shoulder instead.

Leaving one hand on the back of Zoro’s neck, the cook explores his torso with the other, stroking along Zoro’s ribs, tracing up his scar, groping his pecs. Zoro would roll his eye at the predictable move, but it’s already rolling back in his head as the cook pinches one of his nipples and thrusts his hips up. He can feel Sanji smirking against his throat as he gasps.

“You’re sure not shy for a guy who’s never touched another man’s dick before,” Zoro comments. Sanji is as hard as he is - meaning very - and practically purring with satisfaction over Zoro’s reaction.

“Maybe I’ll freak out about that later,” Sanji says, rolling up against him again. “It’s not in your best interest to make me think about it now.”

“Think about another man’s dick?” Zoro asks. “Oh, I’m going to make you think about mine.” Sanji’s dick is practically the only thing on Zoro’s mind right now, as they slide together. 

The cook makes a sound between a laugh and a moan. “Shut up, marimo.”

Enough talking about it. Zoro takes both of their cocks in hand and strokes, and Sanji stops laughing. He spreads his legs even farther, letting Zoro get a better grip, and pulls his hair until their lips meet for a kiss. Licking into Sanji’s mouth, Zoro wonders if his desire to put something else in him is too obvious. As much as Zoro wants to fuck Sanji, that’s a lot to ask for a first night. Maybe the cook would be up for taking Zoro instead.

Sanji shudders beneath him after a few minutes of slowly thrusting together, and grabs Zoro’s shoulder to push him back. He doesn’t let go when Zoro tries to back off, though, so the swordsman just stills his hand on them and props himself up as far as the cook will allow.

“You okay?” Zoro asks, surprised by how rough his own voice sounds.

“I just…” Sanji nods, and pauses. The way he glances away makes Zoro suspect he’d be blushing, if they weren’t both completely flushed already. “As long as we have this nice bed and the privacy, shouldn’t we make the most of it?”

“What do you want to do?”

Sanji doesn’t say anything else for a moment, just moves his legs around Zoro and bites his lip, glancing down between their bodies. The heat in his eyes is enough for Zoro to take a guess. There are still plenty of ways this could go, but they’ll want lube for most of them.

“You tell me, marimo,” Sanji says, drawing a hand down his own body.

Zoro swallows hard and moves to sit up. This time the cook lets him, though he stays supine on the sheets, panting lightly. Palming Sanji’s hip and cock once more, Zoro glances around the room.

There’s a jar of lube on the bedside table. Of course there is; Zoro half-suspects Nami came in here and put it there herself before they arrived. Whatever the source he’s grateful for it. There’s no way Zoro will risk hurting Sanji this way, not when it’s the cook’s first experience with another man, and more importantly his first experience with Zoro. He wants it to be the first of many.

“You know we don’t have to do this now,” Zoro says, stroking the cook’s inner thigh and raising the jar. 

“I want to,” Sanji replies, firmly meeting Zoro’s gaze. “It’s - you want to, right? I want this to be what you’ve hoped for.”

“Cook, I never imagined getting this far.” Zoro rolls his eye. Well, he’s imagined it, but not seriously. Not like he expected it to ever happen. “There isn’t any one way I want this to go. I want to do pretty much everything there is to do with you; we’ve got time.”

“Everything, marimo?” Sanji asks, and the look on his face is so lascivious that it makes Zoro nervous. “Big words. Might as well start with a bang, then.”

Zoro scowls, soaking in the way Sanji’s skin trembles under his fingers, so soft, and drags his hand deeper still. No one else has touched the cook here, so he has to do it right.

Having Sanji’s powerful legs spread like this for him is overwhelming. The sight of him, one hand fisted in the sheets near his head, the other clenched by his hip, chest heaving with fast breaths, is nothing Zoro thought he’d actually get.

“Okay then,” Zoro breathes, more to himself than anything. He leans in to brush his lips against Sanji’s, and lightly rubs his fingers against the cook’s entrance. A longer kiss will have to wait. Zoro wants to see what he’s doing for this.

Sanji hisses a little when Zoro goes back for the lube. It’s far from cold in the humid jungle air, but the slick feeling must still be startling. Zoro looks up to check on him every few seconds, but neither of them can make eye contact for more than a moment, eyes flickering apart like nervous birds.

“You’ll tell me if you don’t like it,” Zoro says, slightly off-tone for a question. Modulating his voice isn’t his top concern right now. He teases a finger into Sanji, just the first knuckle and back to circling, then another shallow thrust.

“Of course,” Sanji gasps, and effortlessly brings one leg up to knock Zoro’s shoulder with his heel. “Now stop playing around and get in me, marimo.”

No matter how hot that demand makes him, Zoro refuses to rush. He does slide his whole finger into the cook, crooking it into his soft heat and making Sanji choke back a whimper.

“Let me enjoy this,” Zoro says, instead of telling Sanji how much he wouldn’t enjoy it if Zoro forwent preparing him. He’s sure the cook knows, even if he’s never experienced it.

Nodding, Sanji takes a long, slow breath, and Zoro can feel him relax. Petting the cook’s thigh, Zoro nudges another finger in. Sanji whacks him with the opposite knee, but it must be in reflex, because none of Zoro’s ribs are broken. A little bolder now, Zoro sets a rhythm for a few solid thrusts. When Sanji begins moving his hips into them, Zoro scissors his fingers to stretch him further.

Once he’s confident the cook has adjusted to being filled, Zoro feels around for his prostate in earnest. Sanji yelps when he hits the right angle, looking up at Zoro with something approaching indignation.

He can’t stand leaving the idiot un-kissed any longer, so Zoro leans down to do that, sacrificing some of the leverage of his fingers. Breathing in the cook’s moan, Zoro lowers himself enough that their hips brush again. Even he can’t hold this position for long, bracing most of his weight on one arm beside Sanji’s head and still fingering the cook, but it’s long enough. Zoro gets the tip of a third finger into Sanji for a few shallow thrusts before sitting back on his heels.

Sanji looks dazed, eyes half-lidded over pupils so blown Zoro can barely make out their vivid blue. The blush on his cheeks is frantic, and he gasps when Zoro slides his fingers out. Squirming a little, Sanji moves like he wants to close his legs, but only succeeds in rubbing against Zoro.

Biting the knuckles of his free hand, Zoro takes a deep breath. “Want it, ero-cook?”

Laying a hand over his face, Sanji goes very still for a long second. Zoro tries not to move, but can’t help running his hands over the cook. Light touches, up and down Sanji’s thighs, along the cut of his hips, a slow stroke of his cock.

Sanji lets out a huff of breath at that and moves his hand, expression more like himself as he looks at Zoro. He props himself up on his elbows, gaze moving down Zoro’s body to his erection.

“Inside of me,” Sanji mutters, disbelief under the arousal roughing up his voice.

“Only if you still want to,” Zoro manages to say. Sanji looks up to meet his gaze, a serious little frown to his lips. “Tell me you want to.”

“I want you,” the cook affirms. The words send such a rush of heat through Zoro that he forgets to breath for a moment.

Sanji relaxes back onto the bed and readjusts his legs, the smooth skin of his inner thighs sliding against Zoro. “Like this, marimo?”

Zoro can only nod, pulling the cook’s hips up and slinging one of those gorgeous legs over his shoulder. “Let’s see how flexible you are. I want to bend you in half, ero-cook.”

A breathless snicker, and Sanji kicks him in the ass, jarring Zoro forward enough that their erections slide together. “Earn it. Make me beg, if you think you can.”

So Zoro lines himself up and pushes in, the head of his cock fitting into the cook with a satisfying give. He leans down to bite Sanji’s collarbone as the cook gasps, making a few shallow thrusts to ease a little deeper as they both soak in the fact that this is really happening. It’s hard to believe. Only days ago Zoro would have called it impossible; he’d given up on the idea entirely.

“That’s more than I expected,” Sanji gasps.

“You’re so tight,” Zoro agrees, past caring about the cliche line. “Gonna let me get all the way in?”

“I’m sure not going to let you stop halfway,” Sanji says, though his eyes are wide and his breathing is fast and strained.

Zoro takes a hand off Sanji’s hips and brushes the cook’s hair out of his face. Sanji blushes and bites his lip, quickly glancing away before meeting Zoro’s stare with both eyes and arrogant determination.

“Then I’ll give you the best I’ve got,” Zoro promises.

“You would anyway,” Sanji says. 

That’s only the truth. Holding Sanji’s gaze, Zoro presses in, as carefully as he can manage when he’s so hard he can barely think straight. He cups Sanji’s face in his hand, the cook tilting his head into it and letting Zoro run a thumb long his lower lip.

When Zoro bottoms out, Sanji shifts and flexes his hips. Apparently he’s done letting Zoro set the pace, because he wraps his arms around Zoro’s shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss, adjusting his legs for better leverage as he does. Sanji may not have done this before, but he knows how to use his body to his best advantage and proves it. 

Zoro is happy to let him. After taking Sanji so slowly his patience is shot, and if the cook wants to pick up the pace Zoro will gladly show him how it’s done.

Tilting his hips into Sanji’s experimental movements, Zoro knows he’s found the right angle when the cook shivers and gasps, throwing his head back and breaking their kiss. Zoro kisses his throat instead, folding Sanji into a more solid position, and goes for it. There’s no reason to hold back now.

Sanji moans and moves his hips into Zoro’s thrusts, taking his cock like he’s never enjoyed anything more. The cook’s erection bounces between them and Zoro wants to grab it, jerk him off and make him scream, but he’s using both arms to keep them steady. Maybe the cook will beg him after all, if they keep going like this.

“You’re amazing,” Zoro pants. “Damn, cook, I can’t believe - you feel so good, I can’t believe you’re letting me have you-”

Sanji makes a helpless sound and writhes against him, staring into Zoro’s face.

“So good,” Zoro repeats, beyond forming a more complicated thought, but he can still recognize what the words do for the cook.

“Tell me you love me,” Sanji demands, breathless. All his skin is flushed and hot, sweat dampening his hairline. 

Zoro gives him a few more deep thrusts instead. The cook is close to the edge and so is Zoro, and now he has a good idea of how he wants to finish this. 

“That get you going, knowing how much I want you?” Zoro asks, and strokes along Sanji’s chest and ribs, trailing closer to his erection. 

With an unconvincing glare, the cook rocks his hips and tries to push Zoro’s hand closer to his cock. “Why don’t you tell me and find out,” he pants.

“I think about you all the time,” Zoro says, leaning close to whisper into Sanji’s ear. “I tried not to, but I couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else. Wanting you and knowing it was impossible, that I could handle, but not watching some strangers do whatever they pleased with you.”

He’s not actually sure if the cook is paying attention, but Sanji is definitely reacting to something, with a near-constant stream of incoherent sounds and aimless squirming. Getting a hand between them, Zoro grasps the cook’s erection and places an open-mouthed kiss at the corner of his jaw. 

“This is better than I could have imagined,” Zoro pants, losing control of the rhythm and erratically pounding into the cook. “You’re too much. I love you, Sanji.”

The cook moans and comes, heat splattering between them, and gasps as Zoro thrusts into him one more time. Filling Sanji with his own heat, Zoro has enough presence of mind to catch himself before actually bending the cook in half, but it’s a close thing.

Flopping onto the bed beside Sanji, Zoro watches the rapid rise and fall of the cook’s chest with smug satisfaction. He pets Sanji’s toned stomach and waits for his own heart rate to slow.

“So,” Zoro murmurs, “What was all that about, got a thing for praise?” 

“Your pillow-talk needs work,” Sanji retorts. He brings his knees together, grimacing slightly, and Zoro lets his hand fall from the cook’s stomach. He gropes Sanji’s ass instead, getting his fingers into the dampness between his legs.

“You weren’t complaining earlier.” Zoro grins at the cook’s tired growl. Really, he’s much too pleased with himself to mind. Rolling out of bed, Zoro stumbles over to the washbasin and finds a cloth.

“I’ll stop complaining if you bring that over here,” Sanji says. 

Zoro wipes himself off carelessly, and ignores Sanji’s grabbing hands as he comes back to the bed. He’s attentive with the cook, trying to show some of what he’s feeling through touch. Sanji quietly submits to it, sitting up and letting Zoro run the cloth over his skin.

Looking away when Zoro taps at his legs, Sanji tries reaching for the cloth again. “I can do it.”

“I want to,” Zoro insists. “Don’t get shy with me now.”

The cook grumbles under his breath, but leans against Zoro and parts his legs. “Look at you, taking responsibility.”

Zoro is gentle as he cleans up the mess of lube and come, but doesn’t let himself linger. As much as he’d like to get even more familiar with the cook’s most intimate parts, the intimate calm of this moment is more important.

“I love you,” Zoro repeats, once he’s finished and Sanji has room to move away if he wants to. Zoro offers the cook a pair of the resort pajamas, even though he would prefer to keep looking at him. 

“I’d rather have a cigarette,” Sanji says, waving away the pajamas. Zoro is more than happy to drop them to the floor. “I - that’s incredible, hearing you say...”

“That I love you?” Rummaging through Sanji’s clothes, Zoro finds the cook his cigarettes. “It’s the truth.”

“I know,” Sanji mutters, turning away to light up. That it hides his blush for a second is only a bonus, Zoro is sure. “Shit though, what am I supposed to say to that?”

“I can wait,” Zoro shrugs. “Knowing you, either you’ll fall in love within the week or try to kill me over it. I’m gonna do my best to make it the first one, but a fight is always fun too.”

“Smug is a terrible look on you.” Sanji rustles around, finding his way under the sheets and holding them open with an impatient scowl. “I should just kick your ass now. Come here.”

Sliding into the soft resort bed, Zoro lets Sanji push him around to the cook’s satisfaction. They wind up curled together, with the cook wrapped around Zoro’s back. Sanji noses against the nape of his neck, and Zoro can feel the smile on the cook’s lips as he kisses him, even if he can’t see it. Maybe it will be less time than he thought until Sanji gives in and says it back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm always happy to have things to improve on, so please feel free to let me know what you think!


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